


Homesick

by mithrel



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Blanket Permission, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Homesickness, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-17
Updated: 2009-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-11 01:04:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chekov’s performance is slipping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homesick

“Mr. Chekov, ETA to Draylax?”

Sulu’s helm-partner started, fumbled with the console, and finally managed, “Twelve minutes, sir.”

Sulu glanced at Chekov in concern. His normally exemplary performance had been deteriorating over the past few weeks. He was distracted, never volunteered information, and this was just the latest instance where he’d had to look up the answer to a routine query.

After they got off-shift, he caught up with him. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Chekov answered quickly. Too quickly.

“Uh-huh. Tell you what, I’m gonna ask you again, and this time you’re gonna tell me the truth.”

“It is stupid.” He didn’t look at Sulu as he walked down the corridor.

“Maybe, but whatever it is, it’s affecting your performance. You need to talk to _somebody,_ if not me.”

Chekov sighed, and motioned him to follow. Sulu didn’t say anything until they’d reached his quarters. Chekov keyed open the door, went inside and flopped down on the couch, his limbs flying everywhere in an ungainly sprawl.

Sulu sat in a nearby chair, and repeated, “So, you gonna tell me what’s bothering you?”

“I am homesick!”

Sulu’s first inclination was to laugh, but Chekov was glaring at him in a way that made him realize this would be a very bad thing to do. He was just a kid, after all, prodigy or no. It was only natural he’d be homesick. “This your first time off-planet?” he asked carefully.

“Yes. Well, apart from…” he waved a hand in the air, and Sulu nodded. “I was too busy to think about home the last time, but now…” he trailed off. “We only get messages every few weeks.”

“And you miss your family.”

“Yes,” Chekov admitted.

“Nothing wrong with that. Once we get somewhere where there’s something to do you won’t think about it.”

“And until then?”

Sulu thought a moment, realizing there was a way to alleviate Chekov’s homesickness. “You’re from Russia, right?”

Chekov nodded. “Novosibirsk.”

“So how’d you end up in Starfleet?”

“One of my teachers recommended it.”

“Oh? Which?”

Gradually, he got Chekov talking, about his family, his life. He was an only child–his mother was a technician and his father piloted intercity shuttles. He’d always been smart, so much so that he’d skipped a grade in elementary school. He was a favorite of his teachers, but his peers made fun of him, for his awkwardness, and his good grades.

When he was fifteen, his physics teacher recommended he enlist in Starfleet Academy after he graduated high school. His parents were reluctant to send him all the way to San Francisco.

Sulu looked at the chrono some time later, and realized he’d been sitting there for over an hour. He had alpha shift in the morning, so when Chekov paused he said “Look, I’ve gotta go.”

Chekov looked at the chrono himself, and winced. “I’ve been talking for over an hour? Why didn’t you stop me?”

“It was interesting. Besides, don’t you feel less homesick now?”

He thought a second, then smiled. “A little. Thanks.”

Sulu grinned at him. “No problem.”

***

Chekov seemed to settle down after that, but Sulu occasionally would stop by his quarters and they’d talk.

Chekov told him how, at the Academy, he actually made friends for the first time. His roommate had introduced him to track, over his objections, since he’d always been horrible at sports, but he turned out to be good at it, his small size and agility giving him enough of an edge that he was the youngest cadet to win the Academy marathon.

Sulu was impressed. Chekov never boasted when he mentioned his accomplishments, though it was obvious he took a quiet pride in them. He’d been tracking toward navigator, and he’d done well in transporter theory (which was probably why he’d managed to beam him and Kirk away before they’d become splats on the rock of Vulcan) and theoretical physics, but he’d only been in the beginning of his second year at the Academy.

Sulu wondered if he was really ready to be out here. He was good at his job, but he was so _young_.

Sulu talked about his family, as well. They’d lived in San Francisco for the past hundred-plus years. He was Japanese-American, although there was some Filipino in the family, accounting for the name, since Japanese didn’t have an “l” sound. He didn’t speak Japanese at all, apart from the most basic necessities, like “Where is the bathroom?” and he sometimes envied Chekov his knowledge of a second language.

He’d had an older sister who went to the Academy, and when he decided to enlist, she’d given him tips, like the best places to study, and which instructors to avoid. Now Hiroko was commander of a survey vessel, and he only heard from her occasionally.

At the Academy, he’d been top of his class in Astrosciences and Botany, and he’d organized the European Swordsmanship Club. He’d been a year from graduating when the distress call came.

At some point, he realized he’d become friends with Chekov. The kid was easy to talk to, and a good listener. They started to anticipate each other on the bridge, which was all to the good. He figured by the time the five years were over they’d be one hell of a team.


End file.
